Reddening Hourglass
by AppleL0V3R
Summary: Collection. 2. Rough Hands - Like a Puppet: His hands were rough, like the rest of him. He'd never be smooth and perfect like his puppets. She didn't care, though, and that's why he stuck around.
1. Starry Heavens: In the Desert

**Title:** In The Desert

**Author:** AppleL0V3R

**Beta-reader:** Terror-Of-The-Crimson-Night

**Fandom:** Naruto

**Pairing:** Akasuna no Sasori and Subaku no Temari

**Rating:** T

**Type:** One-shot – Complete

**Summary:** Living in the desert made Temari accustom to looking at the starry heavens it also brought her to him.

**Word** **Count:** 1,039

**Disclaimer:** If you've heard of it before, then it's obviously not mine.

..:Xx0o0xX:..

Temari sighed. Being the Kazekage's beloved older sister could be quiet tiresome and very trying on her patience sometimes. Like now. The blonde women had just returned from Konoha, and as much as a sweetheart Sakura had been like she always was, the village elders had gotten under her skin. And the ones here were only making it so much worse. Did they live to torture her? How ever does her little brother put up with it half the time?

When she got the chance, she immediately left their palace of a home to be in an open part of the desert by herself. This was an odd habit she'd withheld since young and didn't see the necessity in giving it up. She loved to come to this place to calm down and watch the stars. Ino had stated at one point that she watched stars like that lazy Nara of a brother figure of hers watched clouds. She'd denied any such fact, of course, but that didn't make it any less true.

So that is where she was, underneath the great big sky in a mostly secluded area of open desert looking up to the starry heavens.

She hard a gentle _crunch, crunch_ sound and didn't even bother to look backward as her companion approached. This was the main reason she always came _here_ and nowhere else. Him.

The first time she'd come, she remembered gapping in awe at the beauty. Hey! Just because she was a tomboy, strong, etc. did **not** mean she couldn't be feminine as well! So awed in fact that at first it took a second to realize she wasn't the only one there. And that other person was dangerous, most definitely a hazard to her health. And of course, she'd pulled out her fan, opening it partially and assuming her usual fighting stance.

But he did nothing. He just stared at the sky as he had been doing when she first arrived.

For a moment, she was put off. No, he wasn't attacking her so she really had no reason to jeopardize her life, because she wouldn't win and she knew that. She was prideful, not arrogant. That did not, however, stop the feelings of incredulousness and offensiveness from welling in her chest. She didn't act on it though; she wasn't stupid enough to go looking for death when she had a reason to live. She also didn't allow her alertness to fade, shoving her large iron fan into the ground and leaning against it. Then he chose to pad closer to her until he was roughly ten feet away from her, enough room to attack or defend should he see the need to.

Deciding that he did not come to finish off her brother or harm her, she left the matter alone and returned her attention to the large expanse of dark blues and blacks of the sky along with the white and sometimes yellow tinted stars that littered the sky. Not one cloud in sight.

Neither said a thing and she allowed her mind to wander from the crimson haired criminal not far from her, never once the thought of capturing him crossing her mind. She wouldn't have won anyways.

So then it'd turn into a ritual of sorts for the two. She'd great him with a nod or look or glance, and he'd reciprocate the gesture, but they didn't really speak for the most part. Conversation wasn't necessary and the always starry and cold night never ceased to take her breath away. Never failed to keep her attention. Never failed to always be beautiful.

It was art, she supposed, in a way.

Never once had she been able to find something worthwhile in the desert, nothing beautiful. It was brown instead of Konoha's lush green or Kiri's oceanic blue. It had unbearable weather patterns, blazing hot in the day and the exact opposite when there is no hot sun in the day, unlike the comfortable year round warmth of Konoha or the constant cool breezes of Kiri. It was a barren wasteland, not a tropical paradise or a breath taking village on or next to the ever beautiful ocean. There wasn't anything beautiful about it and there never would be, but it'd always be her one true home. That's what she'd thought of it for so long.

But ever since that first night, she'd realized that was okay. Because the night sky made up for everything else it lacked in the day time. The setting and rising sun also took her breath. She could watch the sky from sunset to sunrise if she really wanted to. She would be awed and enraptured the entire time.

But what it made it like her own personal dreamland was the fact that he was there. No matter how dispassionate his almost always half-lidded red eyes were, or how tattered and worn he was, bloody hair tussled, she liked his silent company. Sometimes she'd her herself talk and he never seemed to pay attention but she knew he was listening. She also knew he knew she knew he'd never ignore her. Sometimes he'd explain art, what he though of it. Sometimes he'd merely ask her one question and she could talk for hours. She suspected he did it simply because he could and it was his backwards way of getting to know her. And yet somehow she always learned something about him, even if he went a whole night without ever once looking her way. But she always learned most when he strayed to stand beside her, leaning against that giant weapon she always had shoved in the ground. Because then she knew he wasn't looking at the sky.

It truly was her paradise in the one place she'd never though she'd find one.

In the desert.


	2. Rough Hands: Like a Puppet

**Title:** Like A Puppet

**Author:** AppleL0V3R

**Beta-reader:** Terror-Of-The-Crimson-Night

**Fandom:** Naruto

**Pairing:** Akasuna no Sasori and Subaku no Temari

**Rating:** T

**Type:** One-shot – Complete

**Summary:** His hands were rough, like the rest of him. He'd never be smooth and perfect like his puppets. She didn't care, though, and that's why he stuck around.

**Theme:** #11 – Rough Hands

**Word** **Count:** 1,921

**Disclaimer:** If you've heard of it before, then it's obviously not mine.

**Note:** I am bending the story line a little. Instead of Sasori leaving around fifteen, I'm going to have him leave at twenty-one which will leave Temari at five since she's sixteen years younger than him. Oh wow. By the way, I don't have a complete grasp of Sasori's character. I know he grew cold after his parents' deaths and he doesn't like to wait or be kept waiting but that's about it. So sorry for too much OOCness in his character if there is.

..:Xx0o0xX:..

Temari, like most her age, was a very curious child. Even though she was the oldest, she was also a girl and as her father had said: not fit to learn politics. So she often wandered about without much care, most were mindful of the five year old but none ever said anything. The way she saw it, the whole village was her domain and she could therefore go anywhere she wanted. So she did. She explored and spent most of her time walking through the village.

Kankuro was usually at home with their father to begin learning the way of the shinobi and Gaara was left to his numerous toys. Honestly, little Temari found something odd about her youngest brother, but he was three and cute and she knew she loved him just as much as she loved Kankuro.

Everything was relatively simple in her eyes, black and white. She liked it that way; it was so easy to understand even if that old advisor lady had once said to her father that the world didn't work that way. That to think so was childish. Well, sooner or later she'd show her. But until then, she'd scour every part of the village, get to know her home on a personal level. She was sure that would be the best way to led Suna as excellently as her father.

One day though, everything changed.

The girl child had been sauntering in a more remote section of the village when she'd happened upon a cottage that appeared abandoned. Immediately her interest had been piqued and she couldn't help but think that maybe this could be her own secret place. It was so dark and dusty that surely no one lived there; perhaps she could make it all cute and stuff. Liking the idea more and more with each passing minute, she forgot all the safety precautions she'd been taught and simply bolted for the small wooden building.

She never could have known just how familiar this place would become to her even well over thirteen years later. And never could she have foreseen what came next. Both within that moment and during her entire first stay in the abovementioned place.

Upon entrance, she'd found herself held tight unable to move from the position of a child with her arm outstretched and one foot forward that she wasn't completely putting her weight on. Something inside her, maybe the shinobi that she promised herself she'd become, told her to stay perfectly still. And just like with all her other urges and whims, she followed it, freezing as best as she could in place.

When a silhouette suddenly formed in her line of vision she felt a sudden pulse of fear. A small voice, the only thing in an otherwise blank mind, reminded her that her father had drilled it into her head that she wasn't supposed to be anywhere near here. And she had forgotten in the face of childish idealism. Was he a monster? Was going to eat her? Or do unspeakable things as the Kazekage had said would happen to children who didn't do as they were told?

And then the tears began to form and blurry her vision, it was getting harder and harder to stay still with each passing second and her fears simply kept building. "Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry I forgot I wasn't supposed to be here. I'll be a good girl, I promise!" and then she lost her balance.

Faster then she could track the shadow had disappeared, but she'd had no time to let her fear grow. Within the same second that it'd gone rough, large hands were suddenly on her, one firmly placed on her shoulder and the other on her waist as an arm around said body part steadied her. She knew that all those fears from before should have intensified, but it simply refused to. Not because her petite body could take no more emotion, but because it had all melted away and she was crumbling into this stranger's body. When did she become able to move, she wondered? But she wouldn't have an answer, not even when she asked. She felt herself lifted from the ground as if she weighed nothing at all and found herself surrounded in strong arms and black cloth. It seemed so easy to fall into a sense of security.

So many questions bubbled forth but the exhaust from the weight of so many emotions at one time was the catalyst for the darkness tugging at her eyelids and her consciousness. She tried to fight it, but her eyes wouldn't stop blinking and the heartbeat next to her ear, so much stronger and reassuring than her fathers, was like a lullaby. His soft soothing voice mumbling words she couldn't understand wasn't helping much either. And soon enough, her eyelids refused to open and all she could do was snuggle closer to this stranger, who was scary at first, had somehow gained all her trust in one fell swoop. Then she was sleeping.

..:Xx0o0xX:..

His front door opening so suddenly had taken the twenty-one year old male by surprise; he would have sensed a ninja and civilians didn't come to his home. He was immediately in the entry way to see who it was, forgetting that those unaccustomed to high ranking shinobi speed would think he was materializing. It was easy to when it'd been well over five years since he'd encountered such a simple thing.

What caught him off guard was seeing a little girl with blonde hair and frightened teal eyes frozen in place as if she knew the strings he'd placed were there and could very will slice her to bits. But that wasn't possible, which meant she had very good, very loud instincts. Perfect for a shinobi. Again he was shocked when he saw tears begin to collect in her big pretty eyes and she wobbled slightly, intrigued he stayed still to see what she would do. Would she dare to move and abandon the instinct to stay still that she was obviously holding to so tenaciously? Surely not.

"Please don't hurt me!" The unsteady voice was full of fear and it hit him hard. Was that what her gut told her? That he was dangerous? It made sense enough and it was entirely true, but he didn't quiet like either emotion that plagued her. "I'm sorry I forgot I wasn't supposed to be here." He frowned imperceptibly. Had she been told to steer clear of his home? If so, then why? And why bother if it wasn't made important enough for her to remember? "I'll be a good girl, I promise!" By then her voice was cracking full of sobs, she seemed to have reached her limit. And much to his alarm she lost her balance, beginning to tumble. He was not yet ready to give up this interesting girl, not if he could help it.

And so he was quickly before her, loosening the chakra threads with the hand he'd placed on her comparatively small shoulder while the other encircled her waist so as to steady her. For so long he'd been so cold, focused on only his puppets that the warmth of the small girl as she crumbled into him made him still completely. He watched her as fear turned to trust in her dazed eyes and something in him told him that something could be his again. Not just his puppets, but someone, someone with strong life flowing through her.

This someone.

On a split second decision so unlike him, he choose to pick her up and curl her into his chest allowing the black cloth of his shirt fall on her like a blanket. The man with a shock of shaggy red hair continue to watch as her eyes began to blink more and more until they didn't open again. "You have done nothing wrong." He murmured softly, something in him warming fractionally when she curled into him.

..:Xx0o0xX:..

A twenty-one year old Temari sat in a chair in one of the rooms in a wooden cottage on the outskirts of her Suna home. He'd been twenty-one as well when she'd met him. The memory had never faded, so prominent even now. It had shaped her in ways she never would have been had it not been for him.

She glanced at the bed that had rumpled, disturbed sheets but no body occupying them. She had recently woken from her dream to find her favorite person in the world gone. He'd return at some point she knew, he didn't like to keep people waiting. In the mean time, the brash blonde let her thoughts stray and it inevitably continued where her dream had left off.

She remembered waking a little while later in the same bed her older form sat across from now and he had been in the chair she sat in now, in the very same position. Fear had flashed through her before leaving when rationale told her that she was unharmed and the at-the-time-stranger probably didn't mean her any. So curiosity stepped in and she asked him his name. From there one question lead to another and finally she asked if she could come again. When he said yes, she found herself here as often as she could be even when he wasn't. Which was probably how he developed that 'don't keep me waiting and I won't keep others waiting' philosophy.

She chuckled at the thought.

One her favorite parts of him were his hands. They were rough, they had been since the first day she met him but she still loved them. She'd spent hours simply fiddling with them and he never seemed to mind, neither did. Because neither was perfect and they'd long since realized that. He had joined a criminal organization, but refused to harm her brother, for that she had been thankful. Though there were plenty of arguments and even more times when she thought the relationship they had would be over.

It remained strong, even through it all.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and another encircled her waist. She smiled at the symbolism of it that Sasori seemed to love to keep. She turned and kissed him on the lips and he was quick to reciprocate the gesture.

"Welcome home." She murmured when they parted.

"Have you been a good girl?" He asked in turn.


End file.
